the tree

Yesterday I got motivated to tackle those giant limbs in the front yard that fell a few days ago in the storm.

I can’t remember if I wrote about them here, but I mentioned them on Instagram when they came down.

I actually put a tiny dent in the project on Wednesday, but it was also a beautiful afternoon for my bestie to come over and have a couple of yard beers, so we did that instead. I even got her on the little lawn tractor for some farm fun.

Yesterday was my long day.

Thursdays usually are. I have two hikes back-to-back, then I come home to walk my own dogs, and after that I have private dog-walking clients. Most Thursdays I get home completely spent. But yesterday I looked out at those fallen limbs and got a sudden surge of motivation. 

I started wondering all kinds of things.

How much of this can I actually do with my little chainsaw? Where am I going to put all this brush?

What if I get started and realize I’ve taken on more than I can handle? (this happens more than I’d like to admit)

And then I just started doing it.

One branch. Then another. Then another.

The more progress I made, the more I realized I wasn’t doing it because the limbs needed to be cleaned up.

I was doing it because I needed to know I could.

I spent years as the only woman at my last place of employment. I had to prove myself over and over again. And I did. If you’ve been reading here for a while, you know that story. If you don’t, well, it eventually became public record and now I work for myself. 

But standing out there in the yard yesterday, sweating and dragging brush and cutting limbs, I realized this wasn’t really about me or those limbs. 

It felt like I was doing something for every woman who has ever looked at a hard thing and immediately thought, “I can’t do this. I need someone to do it for me.”

Now don’t misunderstand me. Do take help when it’s offered. Accept kindness. Let people show up for you.

But standing there alone on nine acres looking at that giant mess in my front yard, was both intimidating and also seemed like an opportunity to empower myself. I went inside, put on my boots, my gloves, picked up whatever tools I had. And just started working. 

I know that I can’t do it all.

I don’t own a chainsaw big enough to handle the largest pieces. At some point I’m going to need help, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I’m not so stubborn that I refuse help from a man just to prove a point. That’s not strength. That’s just foolishness. 

But knowing that I can handle what I can handle with the tools I already have and knowing that I don’t immediately fall apart when something big lands in my path is what I needed.

-s